Chapter 8

“I have to go. I’ll be late if I don’t hurry.”

“Alright. Go ahead. By the way, where do you work—”

“I’ll come find you again soon. Go see the master.”

Christine urged Belle to find the stable master and then ran off, holding her skirt.

Feeling frustrated, Belle stared at the spot where Christine had disappeared and then ran her hand through her hair.

But it wasn’t entirely unproductive. It was confirmed that the Grand Duke was in confrontation with the royal family, and outsiders still avoided body-modified individuals even after settling here for a long time.

Being able to handle the affairs of body-modified individuals was clearly a major advantage Belle could present. The north was always short of hands.

“First, I should find the stables.”

One problem was that she didn’t know where in the castle she was.

Belle had only frequented the front and right sides of the castle where the garden and training ground were located, and even that was just a small portion.

Chasing after Christine had brought her somewhere inside the castle, and she was worried that she might accidentally enter the western area if she wasn’t careful.

She tried to retrace the path she had unconsciously run along, but she couldn’t recall where the training ground was.

“Is anyone there?”

Though the castle was quiet, it wasn’t lonely on training days when knights came and went.

Belle thought she could find at least one or two passing knights and called out again:

“Is anyone there?”

Feeling self-loathing for getting lost, she sat down, holding her forehead. Her head began to throb.

Could she really trust Christine? The Grand Duke wants blood? Warning the royal family by killing mere employees? Nonsense.

She must either be trying to deceive Belle with clumsy lies or she’s a considerably naive woman—one of the two.

“They stole information, not a brooch.”

They must have been persuaded by the royal family or sent through the royal family from the beginning as informants. What they want is the Grand Duke’s fatal weakness—the secret he wants to hide. That’s likely why there are separate paths for knights and employees.

Then what is that secret?

“You’re clever.”

A shadow fell over Belle’s head. Slowly raising her head, she saw a man with blonde hair looking down at her in the backlight.

The man extended his hand toward Belle. His large, thick hand stopped in front of her eyes.

“Take it. Your legs seem weak.”

His tone was light, his voice husky. What Belle needed was information rather than a hand, but she decided to accept the kindness rather than appear standoffish.

“Then excuse me.”

The man’s hand was covered in calluses. Belle’s hands weren’t as delicate as other women’s either, so the man seemed a bit surprised.

“I heard you wielded a sword, and it seems the rumors are true.”

“My skills are humble.”

“Those hands can’t possibly have humble skills.”

“I suppose they’re from doing a lot of rough work.”

Belle shrugged and her hand gently slipped out of the man’s.

The man ran his hand through his honey-colored blonde hair and smiled awkwardly.

“I’m Belle Sevigne.”

“Nestor Le Moyne.”

“Ah……”

It was Nestor Le Moyne, the Grand Duke’s distant relative whom Ludvico had mentioned. He was right in front of Belle. What perfect timing.

Belle put on the smile she used to wear when working weekend shifts at the dress shop and greeted him warmly.

“May I call you Sir Le Moyne?”

“Yes. Of course, Miss Sevigne.”

“Good. Then… do you know where the stables are?”

Nestor’s eyes narrowed, and Belle shook her head, explaining:

“I’m not trying to escape; I’m looking for the stable master, but I got lost. If you don’t mind, could you at least show me the way back? This castle is too complex to memorize all the paths in just a week—”

“It is complicated.”

“Exactly.”

“Let’s go. I had business at the stables anyway.”

Belle searched for an appropriate topic and pretended to ask casually:

“Which knight order are you in, Sir Le Moyne?”

“I’m in the Ponce Knight Order.”

“Oh, Ponce. I thought you might be a knight of Laruna.”

At the mention of possibly being a Laruna knight, Nestor’s brow furrowed slightly. She keenly noticed this and asked:

“Are there characteristics for each knight order? The Ponce Knight Order seemed quite special to me.”

“It is special. It’s not easy for something ordinary to be special, especially in the north.”

Nestor explained with a light smile:

“Laruna is a knight order that only accepts territory residents. There are no nobles at all, just commoners gathered together. They’re selected purely based on talent, so while they’re skilled, they lack dignity. And Dandelion, as you know, is a knight order made up of body-modified individuals gathered from various regions.”

“I understand what you mean by the ordinary being special.”

It was indeed special that they didn’t set clear limits on status like other regions’ knight orders or draw lines based on appearance.

“More than that, Sir Nestor, your accent is a bit different.”

“That’s because I grew up in the capital during my childhood. Even though I’ve tried to learn the local accent, it seems it’s too ingrained to change. By the way, I heard the rumors. Is your investigation going well?”

Belle recalled Nestor’s comment about her being clever and stopped walking.

Nestor’s eyes curved into half-moons at her wary gaze, which was more about exploring the other person than showing caution. His long eyelashes cast long shadows.

“I know what you’re looking for isn’t a brooch.”

Smiling Nestor was as beautiful and gallant as a knight from a classic novel.

With broad shoulders, a tall stature, curly blonde hair, and eyes as blue as the sea, his appearance wouldn’t look out of place in a masterpiece painting.

However, his gaze toward Belle was as cold as the winter night’s moon.

They said he was a relative of the Grand Duke of Balzac, and it wasn’t a lie—their gazes were quite similar.

“They were killed conspicuously while trying to dig up information. As a warning to other informants, the royal family, and employees who might be persuaded at any time.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Miss Sevigne. You should be careful. The story about finding a brooch was quite plausible, and those who don’t know the inside story might just find you pitiful, but some knights who aren’t so simple are suspicious of you.”

Nestor whispered:

“And I’m one of them, Miss Sevigne.”

Damn it.

Just when things seemed to be going well for once.

“Whatever the case, you won’t be taking anything from this castle.”

“I’m not a thief.”

“For someone who claims that, your lies are quite composed.”

“I find you suspicious as well.”

Nestor’s eyes narrowed.

“Everyone knows I’m looking for a brooch, but you agreed with the statement that they stole information, not a brooch. You seem to know the inside story already, but how do you know this when you’re not even a knight commander?”

“I’m a relative of His Grace the Grand Duke, Miss Sevigne. What exactly are you looking for?”

“I have no obligation to tell you. Go ahead and be suspicious. Whatever I’m looking for, only His Grace knows the truth of the wager, so the power of life and death lies with him.”

Nestor stared at Belle as if dissecting her like the Grand Duke would, then burst into a gentle laugh.

Since the laughter didn’t match the situation, Belle hardened her face, feeling she was being mocked.

“You’re impressive.”

“It seems knights also suspect each other. Or perhaps they monitor each other.”

“You’re overly sensitive. I’m simply watching you out of loyalty to His Grace. Someone in their right mind wouldn’t make such a wager.”

“Then I must not be in my right mind.”

“You don’t seem afraid of death, Miss Sevigne.”

“Because I know what’s truly frightening.”

The end of all life is death. That is fair to all humans, regardless of status, high or low, or wealth, much or little.

This fact had always comforted Belle and became the source of her intense struggle, believing she wouldn’t die living like this.

“Interesting. Very interesting. I understand why His Grace made such a proposal to you.”

Nestor resumed walking. Belle felt like slapping his cheek right then and there.

“Why are you trying to meet the stable master?”

“Am I obligated to tell you?”

“As a knight protecting Balzac, I have a duty to monitor suspicious individuals.”

“I heard the stable master wouldn’t be afraid of someone like me. To find the brooch, I need to know about the employees, but they won’t let me near them.”

“That’s understandable. Everyone would think: ‘If I’m with that crazy woman, I’ll be suspected and killed too.'”

“Then knights should be suspicious of me as well.”

“You’re becoming more and more intriguing. You’re right. Knights don’t particularly care about the women who come to this castle. Whether intentional or not, their future is either madness or death.”

In other words, the knights were sympathizing with Belle, who had a death sentence awaiting her.

She responded sharply to his unpleasant way of packaging known facts in an even more disagreeable manner:

“And you, who are loyal to such a family, are you sane?”

Instead of showing displeasure, Nestor raised the corner of his mouth with an interested expression. This irritated Belle even more.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I find myself hoping that you survive.”

“What do you mean?”

Nestor and Belle arrived at the stables. They could hear an old man’s grumbling complaints in a gravelly voice.